Revenge is Best Served with Pizza
by Figgs
Summary: The typical evening of a devil hybrid demon hunter.  Lady nearly makes the devil cry.  Revenge is best served with pizza- no olives.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own any part of Devil May Cry or anything associated with the series.

**Author Notes**: Just a quick little short story. Read on! Lemme know what ya think!

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><p><strong>Revenge is Best Served with Pizza<strong>

A man, clad only in brown leather pants and a two-tailed red trench coat, sat back in his chair, his booted-feet resting crossed on his desk. Lazily spinning, the fan wafted little breezes in his direction. They wisped through the room carrying the quiet tunes of the jukebox in the corner, the same record that had been playing for three days straight. He would've had some new records by now if he knew any other artists, or actually had clients. Most would say he just spends his money everything that has absolutely no value. But he rather liked his habit of buying large pizzas for every meal and cheap magazines that took up more of his time than his job. The rest of his money was either stolen by his trigger-happy friends or used to pay the rent. Well spent, he'd say.

Dante was quite content with his lifestyle. The only thing that could have been better was the lack of business. And maybe the shop. It could use a good cleaning but God forbid he ever pick up after himself. He had no need to doll up his office. His customers were not the cleanly type, his only friends and family were out to kill him, and the only women he knew were psychopathic mercenaries. But as long as he had his large supreme pizza- no olives, junky magazines, and monotonous jukebox, everything was just right.

Until the front door opened.

"Andy?" His face suddenly dropped. "Oh… it's you."

The young woman with the black bob-cut slipped into the office. Her ensemble was a cross between schoolgirl and temptress that Dante would never understand. Hand on her hip, she raised an eyebrow. "Who's Andy? Finally get a customer?" she mocked, stepping over to the desk. Her red, navy-laced boots clunked across the floors.

"You're hilarious," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. "Nope. Just waiting for dinner."

The girl stopped in front of his desk, lifting Dante's boots and swinging them off, clearing a space to take a seat. A smug smile crossed her face as she scooted her slim figure onto the wooden surface. "So you're eating Andy?"

Dante scowled. "Yes. I've found cannibalism solves all my debt problems." Noticing the girl's face, he chuckled. "He's the pizza guy, Lady. Cool it. If I wanted to solve my debt problems, I could just kill you."

Lady's laugh echoed through the shop. She pushed herself off the desk and sauntered over to the crooked pool table a few feet away. "As if you could," she taunted, chalking the cue.

When there was no answer from Dante, she turned her gaze in his direction. A travel magazine was draped over his face; his feet back up on the desk and his figure leaning back in the chair. His arms stretched behind his head, relaxed. She watched as his chest rose and fell, with every quiet, sleepy breath he took.

With a quiet sigh, Lady took her stance by the pool table, one foot forward and the other foot back, her body slightly twisted to the left. She took aim at an unusual angle and struck the cue ball with brutal force, causing it to fly off the table and land on the magazine stuck to Dante's face.

Startled, he yelped and threw the magazine off his face. His feet crashed to the floor and his glare spotted Lady, leaning on the cue stick with a grin plastered to her face.

"Go put a shirt on, Dante. I have a job for you."

He scoffed, standing from his chair and scratching his head. "Like hell."

Lady opened her mouth to explain but a rapping at the door forced her silence.

"Ah. My pizza," Dante sighed, thankful to avoid confrontation with Lady. For now, at least.

He opened the door to reveal a mustached man in a brown, brimmed hat, soaking wet from the pouring rain outside. "You look like hell."

"Whatever Morrison. Look in the mirror," Dante uttered, annoyed about his missing pizza. "Lemme guess, you have a job for me?"

Morrison wrung out his hat and stuffed it in his coat pocket carelessly. "Would there honestly be any other reason for me to visit you?" he commented dryly.

Dante strolled over to the pool table and grabbed the cue stick from Lady, who shrugged her shoulders and meandered around the room without a care. "To visit the most empathetic and charming person you know?"

"Is that what he calls it?" Lady called from the jukebox. "Don't you have anything else in this piece of junk?" she asked, pointing at the retro music machine.

The man in red rolled his eyes. "My birthday's coming up."

"You don't even remember your birthday."

"That's a lie. I just don't remember yours."

"I don't even remember mine. Birthdays are petty and selfish and a total waste of time."

Dante smirked, leaning up against the pool table. "So that means a 'yes' for the present?" The cue ball whacked him in the face. Lady cracked up laughing from across the room.

"You both are like immature children, I swear," Morrison said, noticing the welt growing on Dante's forehead.

Dante coughed. "Right," he muttered, turning his attention to the impatient man standing near the door. "What's the job? Lady actually came in here saying the same thing so it'd better be worth my time."

"Oh it will be," Morrison assured. "The client is filthy rich and none too bright. Scared of anything that moves in the dark. But this time, the guy got a good look at the thing. Said it was demon for sure."

Dante let a grumble slide from his throat. "Is this the same job you had for me, Lady?"

Lady turned her attention from the framed record on the wall, to the two men on the other side of the room. "Is his name Sebastian Crowe?"

"Yes," Morrison answered curtly.

The girl nodded in reply.

"And why don't you want it, Lady?"

She ambled across the floor, thinking over her response. She landed at the desk, letting her finger slide across it. "Because he asked for you."

Dante cocked his head to the side and ruffled his hair. "Then why did he go to you?"

Lady looked down where her boot scuffed the floor. "Old friend of a friend."

Morrison glanced at Dante who walked towards the girl. Confused, he examined her face. "You were on a date with him, weren't you?"

Lady's head shot up. "I don't know what you're talking about," she stated, crossing her arms stubbornly.

A laugh erupted from the devil hybrid as he nearly skipped back over to the pool table. Even Morrison let a smirk cross his face. "You're joking, right? Falling for the faint-hearted? I always knew you'd wear the pants, but-…" A painful slap left his face sizzling.

"I thought it was a date. Turns out it was just a way to get to you. So why don't you shut your mouth, moron. My personal life is none of your business," Lady snarled, glaring at the jester.

"Fine fine," he said, rubbing his cheek gingerly.

"And as for the 'faint-hearted', I thought I'd get away from cold-hearted jerks like you!" she shouted. The anger rang through the office as the silence set in.

His hair hung in his face as he stood, transfixed by Lady's words. But after a few moments he shook it off and turned to Morrison. "So, when and where?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lady seat herself by the jukebox, crossing her legs and playing with the laces on her boots.

Morrison shook himself awake and coughed out a quick location and time before saying his goodbyes and leaving through the door, back into the storm.

Dante took a deep breath and approached Lady.

Last time he tried to calm her down, she ended up shooting at him. Hell, the first time they met, she shot him in the face… twice. Lady was not light-hearted. But she was violent. Very violent and aggressive… even more so when she's angry. Dante didn't have to fear being killed by a trigger-happy lady-friend. But he did have to worry about her stealing all of his stuff when he was asleep or away on a job.

So he had to apologize.

Cringe.

"Hey, uh, Lady?"

She continued to play with the laces. "What the hell do you want?"

He scratched the back of his neck uneasily. This was going to be difficult. Funny. He could kill demons, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize. Mostly because he knew he was still right, but looking at her face… eh… he just had to.

"I guess I just want to... um… say sorry?"

Lady exhaled heavily. "Do you even know what you're apologizing for?"

"…uh… no?"

Slap.

"Whatever, Dante. Have fun with your job." She kicked the desk chair on her way out and it toppled over. The door slammed behind her, causing the nearby lamp to crash to the floor.

At that moment, the phone rang.

Dante reluctantly lifted himself from the chair by the jukebox and sulked back over to his desk, kicking the desk chair upright, slouching into it, and pounding the table with his fist. The phone flew through the air and into Dante's raised hand. He held the receiver to his burning cheek.

"Devil May Cry. …what? …pay my tab? …Andy, you know I don't have that… Lady put you up to this, didn't she? I swear when I… no, I still want that pizza… I just-…"

A yell exploded from the Devil May Cry shop, leaving Lady with a smirk as she sped away on her motorbike into the storm.


End file.
